Music

complex piano scales drift through the walls
fingers pushed against nature
that would curl them into tender fists
against a mother's breast
the passage is repeated
again

I remember singing 'Kyrie'
until our voices beat the walls
the tabernacle in clear harmony
Kyrie eleison,
eleison
eleison
have mercy
Sister Julie St Francis stood in the dusky aisle below
again 'Kyrie'
again

I learned Our Lady of Perpetual Help was powerless
or disinterested
there would be no mercy but the music itself

Sister Perpetua said
Math is the music of the universe
covered a facial mark with makeup
did she look in a mirror then?
she hated sophomores
wise fools
I saw quarter, eighth notes
drift against a measured staff
in silent, black space
she turned equations
into form on graph paper
particular curves

reader of stories
writer of obtuse lyrics
I fell in love with math my sophomore year
she demonstrated with white chalk
on a blackboard
(now they are green with yellow chalk
I dislike that
she would have liked it
told us why
mathematicians and artists have elegance in common,
joy)
she demonstrated with supple aged fingers
algebra lovely as rosy fingered dawn

now
over the scales
some young woman babbles sterile nonsense
about rhythms
duple, triple
we clap in time
the tired old 'Nutcracker' soars once again
walk time
march time
dance time

Sister Mary Perpetua died last fall
in her nineties
but I remember her pleasure
in a clean, formal proof

Mary Jimenez, 1992
edited April, 2008